One Step At A Time
by XAllWasWellX
Summary: War had changed them all, and little remained of the people they had once been. End!verse, CasxOC


A slow smile spread across her lips as colors sparked before her eyes, dancing and morphing into various indiscriminate shapes. She still wasn't sure what exactly the little red pills were that she had taken earlier, but Cas had offered, and she was too far past the point of worrying about what kind of things she ingested nowadays. All she knew was the drugs made her feel good; offered her, both of them an escape, at least for a little while. A warm feeling seemed to bloom inside of her as the pills kicked in, euphoria soon overtaking her, and she leaned back on her palms letting her eyes slip shut contentedly as she gave in to the drug's effects.

* * *

Light streamed in from the dirt-streaked window, and the feel of warm lips against her neck roused her from her sleep. Raising one hand groggily, her limbs feeling as if they weren't quite attached to the rest of her body, she rubbed at her face, a soft moan escaping her lips. Slowly, she glanced over to see who the warm figure beside her belonged to this time, and wasn't surprised when she met the dark blue eyes of Castiel. His pupils were dilated, a sated look on his handsome features that she'd come to recognize as an aftereffect of their 'trips'. Her lips pulled up into an easy smile as she took him in. His dark hair was mussed, and a fine layer of scruff covered his face giving him a rather disheveled appearance. By the lack of clothing he seemed to be sporting, she was able to connect the dots as to what had happened last night.

"Morning," he said, his voice slurred slightly as he brushed his lips across her pale shoulder, one of his slightly calloused hands moving to cradle her hip beneath the rough sheets. "Morning," she mumbled back, her fingers reaching up to thread through his thick locks. For a brief moment as she lay curled against the ex-angel's strong, toned frame, his lips placing soft, messy kisses over her skin, she had a flashback of how he used to be. Clean cut, orderly, with that constant stoic expression. Still naïve to so many aspects of the human world. Castiel, an Angel of the Lord. Now here he was, tangled in her sheets, still riding the high from last night's drug of choice, and the smell of stale alcohol clinging faintly to his skin. But she couldn't blame him. No one could, not with what was going on around them. As she cupped her hands around Cas's face, bringing her lips to his, she couldn't help but think how far they had fallen.

* * *

It had been five years since the Croatoan virus had been released, spreading quickly and infecting everyone it came in contact with. Neighbors and friends had been turned into murderous zombies, their only goal to attack and infect anyone they could get their hands on. Mother had turned against daughter and brother against sister in an attempt to protect themselves from the outbreak.

Camp Chitaqua had become a place of refuge, a haven for the lucky few who had remained uninfected. She, Dean, Bobby and Castiel had joined the ranks of the fighters, helping to protect as many as they could, but their lives had quickly been turned upside down. The world they once knew had been turned into a chaotic, post-apocalyptic warzone. Their motto had become 'kill or be killed', their orders to shoot on sight.

The gruesome world they lived in now had changed them. All of them. Dean was no longer the laid-back, slightly immature heartbreaker he had been. Now he was a cold, ruthless warrior, unattached and focused only on one thing: killing Lucifer. Castiel had long ago been cut off from heaven, his powers fading as the angels abandoned what remained of their home and leaving him effectively human. His transformation had been the worst to watch. Seeing him flounder and fall, his faith all but gone now as he found solace in 'women and decadence' as he liked to put it. In other words, his days were spent in a haze of drug-induced dissociation and his nights spent in the bed of whoever was willing.

She wished she could scold him, tell him to clean up his act and put him back on the right path. But she was so far off the track herself that she could barely keep from falling apart. Her days had found her in a routine much similar to the angel's, as it was her bed he awoke in most mornings. Her pill bottles that he filled and re-filled when they came back from a hospital run. The darkness had eaten at her as well, turning her once sweet, modest nature into…_this. _A cynical, co-dependent woman, warped by all that she'd seen and searching for an escape by whatever means possible.

War had changed them all, and little remained of the people they had once been. Now they were soldiers, and there was no time to dwell on the past.

* * *

A sharp rapping on the door to her room interrupted their actions, and Dean's voice could be heard from outside. "Get to the trucks, raid in ten," he barked, not lingering long enough to catch a response, if either of them had been inclined to give any in the first place. Castiel's cobalt eyes met hers once more and he placed a passionate kiss on her lips before they pulled apart, pulling on whatever articles of clothes they could find strewn around the small room. They moved quickly and silently, knowing better then to keep Dean waiting. She sat on the edge of the bed as she laced up her boots, her fingers fumbling slightly with the laces.

Her chocolate eyes shifted up at Cas approached her, kneeling down in front of her and gently taking the laces from her hands. He tied them into a tight knot, gaze focused on the mud splattered boot in front of him as he worked. "White bottle in my pack. It'll counter the effects of the drugs," he said simply, his tone as unaffected as if he had been offering her a piece of gum. She looked over at the bag that lay on the bed beside her for a moment, the tiny, niggling voice in the back of her head begging for a change, and then fished out the bottle. She popped one of the pills in her mouth, offering the other to Castiel and effectively silencing her conscience.

There would be time for change later. Right now, she was heading out into a town crawling with Croats and she needed to be at the top of her game. Her life and the life of the others depended on it. With a resolute nod she stood, swinging her pack over her shoulder and making her way to the door. Cas came up beside her, lacing his fingers through hers in the most simple of gestures, but the look in his eyes as he glanced down at her told her all she'd need to know. They would get through this together, side by side, hand in hand, one step at a time.


End file.
